The Kiss That Was
by Snow'sLuckyCat
Summary: A little walk on the wild side of Gary's mind during his save of Toni Brigatti. MAJOR SPOILERS FOR The Iceman Taketh.


Title: The Kiss That Was   
  
Author: Sharma Stancil (AKA Snow'sLuckyCat)  
  
Disclaimer: All familiar characters were --- I.E. Gary & Brigatti --- and I guess still are, property of 3 Character Productions. They also are claimed by Jeff Melvoin, but are of course brought to splendid life by the absolutely smashing young actor, Kyle "Yum-Yum" Chandler, and the splendidly charming actress, Constance Marie. : )  
  
Spoilers: "The Iceman Taketh", slight allusion to "Fate" as well.  
  
Category: Drama---Deals with Gary's anxiety when a VERY PERSONAL save almost goes awry.   
  
Rating: PG-13ish  
  
Summary:: A little walk on the wild side of Gary's mind during his save of Toni... ; )  
  
Author's Notes: Nope, not a lot this time. Aren't you just so freakin' happy now?! grin LOL. The only thing is that this is a single-person-POV, of course from Gary's view of events.   
  
Apologies / Warnings: TO ANY AND ALL: I DO NOT MEAN TO SAY ALL BLONDES ARE BIMBOS...JUST ERICA PAGET AND AMBER ARE. GRIN JADE ISN'T THOUGH...SHE'S COOL. AND YEAH, I DO KNOW AMBER AND JADE ARE THE SAME PERSON....BUT THE AMBER ACCENT, WHICH JADE USES WAS JUST SO BIMBO-LIKE, I COULDN'T HELP BUT WINCE. ; )  
  
NOW, LET'S GET THIS PARTY STARTED! : )  
****  
---the kiss that was  
by snow'sluckycat---  
****  
  
She kicked me. I can't believe she kicked me...   
  
She kicked me in my leg...She kicked me in the shin. This I chant over and over, hop-skipping madly down the street---away from the shop and with any luck, out of Antonia Brigatti's life for good. My "escape" couldn't have come at a better time than this. I welcome saving lives over playing dress-up in a tux any day of the week. ALTHOUGH, I would've preferred to get out BEFORE that kick...I man the kiss, before that kiss...  
  
Why did I kiss her?  
  
I mean, she's not that attractive.  
  
...All right. Maybe she is--a little bit...  
  
Ok-Ok. Now, the longer I think about it, the more of a knockout she really is. But, boy, does she have a mean streak...  
  
Enter The Kiss, as it was earlier alluded to.   
  
Just a few minutes ago, Brigatti and I...Well, we...kissed. And, fake as it proved to be beforehand and afterward, during it, I swear we both warmed up considerably, though neither of us will ever admit this fact to the other.   
  
What is fake anway? I don't know, nor do I even care at this point...  
  
In any case, any kisses, fake or otherwise, wth Brgatti are way deeper than anywhere I ever got with Erica in the whole year I'd come to know her.  
  
Why'd I kiss her?  
  
I mean, I guess I could tell myself that I was only, quite more than subtly, trapped in a corner by the gesture, spurred on by the words of two practically complete strangers: a would-be smuggler and a blonde bimbo, the latter of which reminds me so much of Erica Paget, it isn't even funny.  
  
I knew. Really, I did know...that it wasn't real....that I wasn't in love with her....that I thought she drove me crazy, like every time I saw her, and got tangled up in her web of her shenanigans. But, even as all these things combine to contradict our kiss and subsequent pairing, I still loved every second of it, until that hefty manually-given shin split was delivered anyhow...  
  
Ultimately, however, it fell up to me to make the call, and here I stand, waiting for the signal to change, contemplating my choice and wondering if it were the right one. Why did I go through with it? Why did I kiss her lips...touch her face...  
  
AGGHHHH! Stop it, Gary Hobson...Don't go any further! I have a job to do...  
  
Besides, maybe I just thought we did, and that really our lips never quite connected with one another...  
  
NAH. Not only does the pain in radiating from my calf suggest otherwise, but the lingering 'sting' of the kiss on my lip serves as a resounding negative to my fleeting hope as well.  
  
*  
  
Finally, about a block or two further along, the pain has eased down to little more than a phantom throb. And I find myself again seeing the question before me, the one which has plagued me and done so, expertly, ever since I left her in front of the jewelry place.   
  
WHY???  
  
Subconsciously, I must've wanted to all along. She makes me crazy...And yet, I feel myself falling for her. But, I bet I'll never admit that fact out loud. No, I won't, or then I'll never hear the end of it. Of course, then again, the only person who's still around is Marissa, and I doubt that she would ever drag things like this out into the open, or at least if the circumstances were normal, and they most certainly are not...  
  
I mean who else could I tell; nobody, that's who. Chuck's been gone...Erica and that kid of hers, Henry: they've been gone awhile now too, and Patrick? Well, he's still here, but he's just too young to be on a needs-to-know status, since he dosn't need to, and besides he's only part-time. Hell, he doesn't even know about The Paper!...  
  
Oh. Hell-lo...There's an article to prevent. Oh yeah. That's why I left in the first place...  
  
Good. It can take my mind off you-know-who...  
  
Wait, here's a hot dog vendor...I've got an idea.  
  
I let fly with the piece of overcooked meat, which promptly gets halted in its arc by a very hungry, excited, airborne beagle. This might look kinda odd, but little do I care. The food did what it was supposed to do: Stop a run-away puppy from surprising a passing cyclist wsith his headlong dash into the bike's path. And the man, enacted upon by a domino effect, would fall into the road, get hit by a car, and end up paralyzed....  
  
However, none of this happens, and both dog and man are ok, none the wiser.  
  
As the owner, a rather distraught-looking brunette, comes down the rise, I can't help but smile, gripping the mutt's leash while she gathers him up in her arms, scolding him and thanking me profusely in the same breath.   
  
"...Just keep hold of him next time", I counter with an easy-going grin, talking around a mouthful of hot dog.  
  
"Thanks. I will." She gives me another quick, sheepish grin and continues on, pet in tow.   
  
I smile to myself for the first time this whole day, and watch her disappear from view.  
  
Taking out my Paper, I already know the mission is accomplished, that there's no more 'biker paralyzed' story, but I still like the feeling I get when seeing it for myself in the pages, ya know...Sure enough, the article is gone.  
  
I flip through the rest, hoping that I'm done for now, that I can just go home, take a nice, long shower, and relax the rest of the day. I know that won't happen though, 'cuz it never has before. So, why would it start now, nearly four years in...  
  
That's when I see her.  
  
Brigatti.  
  
Oh-no.  
  
She's in the paper...She's in MY Paper.  
  
The smile is wiped off my face like a chalkboard is washed clean at the end of a school day.  
  
This is NOT a good thing. It's a bad thing, a VERY bad thing. True, it ain't ever a good thing when you're in this Newsprint. In fact, it usually means you're in for it...  
  
But, that's beside the point! I just tried to walk out of her life, and now this stupid story is about to get me all tangled back up in it again. I mean, come on! There's only so much abuse a guy like me can take...  
  
I would love to see her, so we can finish what we started though with that kiss...   
  
STOP IT RIGHT NOW, HOBSON, BEFORE YOU LOSE YOUR MIND FOR REAL!  
  
There is, however, a good side to all this mess. Ya see, when you receive tomorrow's news today, you have a leg up on what's going on, before the reporters even write it. Not only that, but you also have a chance to change the future...  
  
So, atleast I've got time on my side...Time to save Brigatti's life. Who knows? Maybe she'll show a bit of gratitude this time...  
  
Oh crap! I'd better start running if I want to be there on time.  
  
I begin my jogging paces. Please God, I pray, just let me get there in time...  
  
Before I even realize it, I'm going pell-mell down the sidewalk, and then the street, brushing aside people and cars alike. My mind is so focused on getting back to the hotel, that I don't notice any of the evil stares and looks strangers are giving me as I bumble past them. A few people - only extremely bold ones I might add - tried to get me to stop, or at least slow down, but I took no heed, weaving through their self-imposed lines with relative ease. In fact, I had actually stopped caring about my own well-being as well, despite knowing this uncaring attitude might cause me some major trouble the closer to and further along I get back to the Hilton Hotel. So, you can imagine how far apart from trivial pedestrians my mind was by this juncture...   
  
I don't feel anything, not the goosebumps probably appearing on my arms, not the heaving of my chest, nor even my own shallow gasps for oxygen and air for my starved lungs...That's just how oblivious I am...  
  
Coming to a skidding halt momentarily, I feel the sudden surge of all the afore-mentioned effects. They hit me with the force of a line-backer, causing a buzzing noise to start grinding up in my head. First, I feel the goose-pimples forming up and down my biceps...Then, I feel the pounding of my heart, almost like it's on a triphammer, or something...  
  
Oh! There it is. I look up and see the Hilton's familiar skyline. It's only a block more up.   
  
Stifling a moan, I sprint quickly up the final block, cross the last street, and bump into one more person.   
  
Finally, I enter the lobby of the cream-colored building, hair all a-fly, but I did make it with ten minutes left to spare. I slow down just a tad, into a long, country-style walk. Reaching the elevator, I get in only to have several others get in behind me, including a particular old guy in a suit, all forcing me to the compartment's back.   
  
All these people. Ughhh! Why is it that every time I'm in a hurry, someone or something holds me up?! I might as well be cursed or something.   
  
After the fist stop and only a few ones get off, I'm already looking at my watch expectantly. It was 4:45 PM. Oh God! Please hurry...  
  
Thankfully, the second stop seems to be the last. The rest of the people pile off, but by some misfortune the extremely well-dressed man from earlier has gotten behind me. The old man, if he weren't a day over 82, was getting out finally.   
  
Shuffling forward as most old folks do, he...ARGHHH! Boy, is he taking his time or what?! I swear, his lethargric movements are done for the sole purpose of ticking me off. Both physically and mentally, I wrestle with which method I should use, in order to get him off and me up to the roof as fast as humanly possible. Brigatti's up there somewhere, and she needs me...Well, maybe not like THAT, but she did need saving.   
  
FINALLY! He's stepped back over the threshold and into the hall beyond...  
  
Reaching over to my right, I repeatedly press the roof access button until the doors slide shut with a dull bump.  
  
Drumming the fingers of my right hand against The Paper to match my beating heart, I force myself to look up at the floor lights and their agonizingly slow pace when changing...  
  
WOULD I BE TOO LATE???  
  
As soon as the lift halts at my destination, I lurch from the enclosure. Quickly rushing around the corner, I spy a staircase leading upwards, with a door at its top. Charging up them, I break out into the open air and partial daylight of outside.   
  
Squinting against the sudden glare, I stop, blinking, hoping...  
  
"Brigatti?!"   
  
Faintly, I hear her reply. "Help me!!!...Over here..."  
  
THANK YOU, GOD. Finally---a break. I still have time, though not a whole helluva lot...  
  
Racing toward the voice, I round a slight corner, and look over the edge. What I see there stops my heart. Brigatti is hanging only by her fingers to two of the short banister columns, similar ones continuing the ring about the building's roof.  
  
My heart starts beating again as I try to calm her, whispering heated reasurrences, though they're probably more for my benefit than hers, used to convince myself that she won't fall...  
  
Unlikely as it may seem, I find myself remembering to a horrible moment this time last year, my dealings with the multi-level apartment fire. The one with Jeremiah...the one that nearly swallowed me in guilt, the one which nearly killed me, the ordeal that'd begun on a rooftop and ended in a collapsed carpet store...And just for one split second, I look down into Brigatti's face, but see the homeless man's one instead. Shaking my head slightly though, I see through it, and it quickly dispels, leaving in its wake one person in the arms of another, she within the shaky stillness of my arms.  
  
I peer down at the crown of Brigatti's head, and breathe into her hair. Finally, I had succeeded, and now, she was safe.   
  
I couldn't move. Hell, I could barely speak above a whisper. I really don't think my charge can either...   
  
Eventually though, after taking several slow, deep breaths, Brigatti manages a question. "You saved my life..."  
  
"Well...uh..." I stutter, half-sighing in relief, half-gasping in exhaustion.  
  
"What're you doing up here anyway?"  
  
I KNEW IT...I KNEW IT WAS ONLY A MATTER OF TIME BEFORE THAT FACT CAME UP...Why was I up there in the first place??? Simple enough...  
  
"...The view is nice..." is all I can come up with. "Actually, I got off on the wrong floor...." sounds no better.  
  
I really don't feel like answering her question right now anyway though, no matter how curious she seems or really is.  
  
The reason this was so was because, all of a sudden, I started feeling tired, very tired of the constant running around, tired of the total charade I've had to live for the past day and a half, just bcause and since Brigatti's real partner got stuck in traffic...  
  
When all I really have wanted to do for the past 2 days now is be able to sleep in my own loft again. Those silent nights alone give me ample time to recharge and reboot, and even if sometimes I do want more, it's still WAY better than listening to this rather petite, young police detective snore like she's a bloody-loud foghorn the entire time.  
  
I mean...REALLY. How much more can I take???  
  
I say nothing of this to my charge however. Honestly, I think she's actually quite thankful that I was there. I hope so at least. I mean, she did, at the very least, acknowledge that I had indeed saved her from death...   
  
Her next words uncharacteristically show worry...for me. She looks down at my forearm, inspecting it, like it was the suspect itself or something. Looking over her head, following her gaze, I see what she does...  
  
Blood, not a lot, mind you, though still enough to make me a little squemish, is oozing from a pretty deep gash...I wonder where that came from...  
  
Was it a result from my street dash, or was it from the elevator, or the rescue??? I let my wondering dwindle there as I hear HER voice speak up again.   
A confirmation of what I saw before me: "You're hurt..."  
  
I look away from the slight injury at...toward the rustling of paper. It's my Paper...sheet by sheet tearing and floating away on a strong gust of wind, blown away to who knows where. The pages seperate from each other, so there resides in my mind that...to find all of their pieces would take no less than the rest of the day, even if only that.  
  
"The Paper..." is all I manage to choke out,   
  
"Don't worry, I'll buy ya a new one."  
  
She has no idea...  
  
***  
The END??? ; )  
  
Shall I add more??? Yes? No? A little bit?   
  
TOO SHORT??? TOO LOOONNNGGG??? OR....IS IT JUST RIGHT???   
U DECIDE BY PUTTING YOUR HERBIE HANCOCK ON THE LITTLE DOO-HICKIE THING JUST BELOW HERE. : ) thanks. 


End file.
